Things Not Shared
by greysnyper
Summary: During 52: As brothers they'll share everything but...


All and Uncolour

_And snow falls like paper across my world.   
Fingers on my face.  
While I am hesitant to admit it  
this has always been my place._

And snow passes through haloed lights.  
Drift asleep quiet musing.  
While I am always fighting to hold on  
you were only mine for losing.

Tim. Timmy. He's not mad at you, he's not--

The two little girls are fidgeting patiently along the railing of the ship. An hour ago someone had spotted dolphins. Perhaps there is the chance that the playful creatures will reappear alongside the vast cruiser, but somehow Dick doesn't think Tim's really watching out for them. 

"Lookin' for fish?" he tries, anyhow. Dropping his weight onto the painted white ledge Dick joins his partner, friend and some other titles that haven't been accurately defined--all good things.

Tim is watching the cloud front and eventually says, "yeah."

It's a lie that allows the younger boy to avoid answering further questions about the processes going on deep behind his stare.

"You know," Dick starts, dry for words in the middle of the sea. "He died saving the universe. I don't think that there is a greater way to go for a person in our line of work."

Time is a funny thing. Coupled with experience and through voiding out ignorance, what had once presented itself as the most honest truth can eventually be revealed as the very opposite. Several months after the time-off Dick had taken with his family, he discovers the real reasons.

He can't yet talk about why he is struggling with about six feet of pressure.

Tim is in a suit and being very well behaved. Dick will even admit that Tim can outhandle Dick in formal wear. Then again, Tim is Bruce's shadow--throw the kid in anything and immediately the boy's brain will be assessing just where the practicality fits. It's a wonder Dick had even been adopted in the first place when Tim is so much the ideal son.

"Tell you a secret?" Tim asks, playing with a crease in the waiting room chairs. Bruce has moved inside to make arrangements or something boring like that.

Dick almost laughs because he has a secret to share, too. "Spill."

"The moment I sit down at the desk in there, I'm going to get sick over everything."

"Good to know," Dick replies. "I'll sit on the other side of Bruce."

A grateful glare is swung at Dick.

"If they're making our relationship official, I have every right to tease you," Dick challenges.

Oh God, if you're listening I want you thank you for the chance to have said that.

Tim frowns. "This means we'll really be brothers, doesn't it?"

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

"We've always been brothers, Tim. We've always been more."

There's the flaming bottle being thrown and Dick staring off like an idiot. The explosion collides with the horrified roar of a thousand people. The ringing deafness of space above Vancouver and the blown out machine only makes Dick remember such sounds. It's not like Dick had never heard Tim weeping on the nights the boy swore that he had been fine.

Tim leans over the side of the boat, eyes maybe catching grey fins in the water. "It's not just the universe, Dick."

Dick wants to say something so badly, but he won't know the right words until a hundred days later.

The clouds on the horizon are going to make for another brilliant cruise side-show in a few hours. The promise of this brushes through both of their hair. Tim's eyes are frighteningly blue. "Conner died saving you."

The Monitors. The right words.

Tim, it should have _been_ me.

He leans over to distract himself with fixing Dick's tie, before directly fixing their stares, too. "If you laugh at me at any point of this interview I swear I'll tell Bruce about the time..."

Timmy, it's okay to hate me for this.

Hand falling down Dick's rumpled suit to the hand. A brief, nervous squeeze.

But I'm glad that it's _me_ who is trying to help you through. And I'm allowed this, because at the time, I didn't know any better.

The phone. Tim won't pick up the--

"You had something you wanted to tell me?"

Robin looks sharp in his new suit. Perhaps a change in Dick's own clothing will save him from all the imposters running around and looking like him. 

_Jason, blue is sooooooooo last year. Didn't anybody tell you?_

"What?" Robin asks, and Nightwing can only wave an explanation.

And now the real challenge that even big brother can't figure out. What are Monitors and why are they trying to kill me, and how to say as much without explaining that someone else ought to be standing in my place. Someone special and we both know it but--

But...

"But the reason I called you, really, was to see if you were okay."

Confused frown asking, "why wouldn't I be fine?"

No answer beyond the selfish shrug. As brothers they'll share everything but the truth.

Timmy, he's not supposed to be dead. I know about your attempted experiments. I--

"_I_ still get to be the one to worry about you."

There. Finally, an answer enough.

Robin snorts. "Tell that to Alfred." And all is right with the world.

Another moment to be grateful for, like all the rest. And all _who_ rest. Be it in peace for Dick would see it no other way.


End file.
